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Updated: June 11, 2025
He bade them "good-bye" in the vestry; he kissed Christine rather awkwardly, and said that he hoped she would be happy; his voice seemed to imply a doubt. He shook hands with Jimmy and called him a lucky dog; he spoke like a man who hardly realises what he is saying; he shook hands with Sangster and hurried away.
"I have so many friends here, you see," she added, with a faint hope that perhaps Sangster would show the letter to Jimmy, and that he would gather from it that she did not miss him in the very least. And Sangster did show it to Jimmy; to a rather weak-looking Jimmy, propped up in an armchair, slowly recovering from the severe chill which had made him quite ill for the time being.
"But I thought " He did not finish; did not say that he had thought Christine cared too much for him ever to give a thought to another fellow. He turned his head against the cushions and pretended to sleep, and presently Sangster went quietly away. He thought that Christine had well, not behaved badly. How could anyone blame her for anything she chose to do or not to do, after what had occurred?
It was only afterwards, when they all drove to the hotel where Christine was staying, that Sangster blundered; he held a hand to Jimmy when he had said good night to Christine. "Well, so long, old chap." Jimmy flushed crimson. "I'm not staying here. Wait for me; I'm coming along." "You're a silly fool," Jimmy said savagely, as they walked away. "What in the world did you want to say that for?"
The gentleman told me to say Euston, told me to tell the driver to go to Euston, I mean, sir " the man explained in confusion. He was red in the face now and embarrassed. "Euston," said Jimmy and Sangster together. They looked at one another, Jimmy with a sort of dread in his eyes, Sangster with anxiety. "Yes, sir. Euston it was, I'm sure.
'Saul, like Milton's great epic, now-a-days, is only admired by a few, and never read by the many. Charles Sangster has also given us a very pleasing collection of poems, in which, like Wordsworth, he illustrates his love for nature by graceful, poetic descriptions of the St. Lawrence and the Saguenay.
Ask Sangster, if you don't believe me. I swear to you that, if it were possible, I'd give my right hand this minute to undo all the rotten past and start again. I suppose it's too late. I suppose she hates me. She said she did that last night in London. She looks as if she does now. The way she asked me if I was going to stay to dinner a chap's own wife! and in front of that brute Kettering!"
"It's the truth, all the same," said Sangster imperturbably. "The two girls are as different as chalk from cheese. Miss Wyatt would soon dislike Cynthia they live in different worlds." "Fortunately for Cynthia perhaps," said Jimmy savagely.
At first he had been so sure that in a day or two at most she would be sorry, and want to see him; somehow he could not believe that the little unselfish girl he had known all his life could so determinedly make up her mind and stick to it. He grumbled and growled to Sangster every time they met. "I was a fool to let her go. The law is on my side; I could have insisted that she stayed with me."
"I I stood it as long as I could; I stood it till I felt as if I should go mad, and then I bolted off here to you. . . . She's got nobody but me, you see." He drew a long breath. "I only wish to God Mrs. Wyatt were alive," he added earnestly. Sangster said nothing. "I wondered if, perhaps, you'd go round and see her, old chap," Jimmy jerked out then. "She likes you.
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